


fed and fed up

by thecrimsonmonarch



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DC Extended Universe, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Cooking, Domestic, Established Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, SuperBat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:26:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26816572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecrimsonmonarch/pseuds/thecrimsonmonarch
Summary: in which Clark cooks andforcefeeds Bruce instant noodles.AKA the Clark/Bruce/Instant Noodles fic nobody asked for
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 6
Kudos: 97





	fed and fed up

**Author's Note:**

> This random little story had been sitting in my phone for _ages_. Then I recently managed to watch the BvS extended cut, and I just had to dig this out. It absolutely has no connection to the plot of BvS, but I was thinking of those characters when I wrote this =)

Clark was in the kitchen draining a pot of newly cooked noodles when he heard the creak of bed springs from his room.

Tongue in between teeth, he watched the last few drops of hot water trickle into the sink just as a yawn resounded from the bedroom doorway.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" Clark asked over his shoulder.

Standing in the living area, arm raised and halfway into a shirt, was Bruce. He was wearing boxers, and what Clark now recognized as his threadbare Met-U tee (originally Clark's, at least. It might as well be Bruce's by now, what with him using it more these days. He was surprisingly hoggish with Clark's clothes, which was weird coming from someone who had his own clothing line. He made for a good view though, so Clark didn't complain).

"No," Bruce grunted, leaning against the door jamb. His eyes were narrowed at the kitchen light, with his hair sticking up on one side and flat on the other. He looked a bit like a disgruntled owl--adorable but deadly. Emphasis on the latter if Clark mentioned the comparison. "Why're you up?"

"I had a craving." Clark grinned and jerked his head at the pot on the counter. He flicked at the corner of a seasoning powder sachet, using the noise to cover his amusement. "You should go back to sleep. It's only, what, 4 AM?" He glanced back just in time to see Bruce stifle a yawn.

"I slept for five hours straight," Bruce said behind the back of his hand. "That's the longest I've slept in weeks." He sounded proud and mortified, but probably for the wrong reasons.

Brows raised, Clark pointed a fork at him. "All that means is you need three more hours."

"Five is already three too many," Bruce grumbled.

"I gotta give you a refresher in basic human physiology one of these days."

"Is this your Alfred impression?" Bruce remarked in an arch tone. "It needs work."

"If you wanted me to throw in some _sir's_ and _Master Bruce's_ to my bedroom talk, you need just ask."

Bruce simply rolled his eyes, but Clark's superhuman vision could detect the tiniest bit of red in his cheeks. Bruce briskly straightened from his lean on the doorway, and made his way to a barstool.

"What's that?" he asked, leaning forward in his seat.

"Chow mein," Clark proudly announced, beaming. "Want some? I'll give you extra if you promise to sleep more."

Bruce's eyes darted from the pot to the empty plastic packets beside the sink. He wrinkled his nose at the sight. "Is that supposed to be an incentive? I've never been so motivated to stay awake."

"You dare mock the food of my people?" Clark clutched at his heart. "Under _my_ roof?"

Bruce snorted. "Quid pro quo: you criticize my sleeping habits, I criticize your eating habits."

"It's a bit of a stretch to say 'sleeping habit' when the primary problem is that you _don't_ make a habit out of it, dontcha think?"

Bruce didn't give any signal he heard him at all, and bulldozed on. "Why would you allow that into your system? Really, Clark, are you that desperate to test your Kryptonian constitution?" He patronizingly covered Clark's hand with his, pausing the mad mixing.

"Hey! It's not that bad, it's got tiny vegetables," Clark protested, hackles raised along with his fork as he was pushed on the defensive. "It's the food of struggling students everywhere. It's cheap, tasty, _and_ filling. It's--"

"Poison?"

Clark rolled his eyes. He leaned across the bar and placed the pot in front of Bruce. "It's _comfort food_."

Bruce stared at it dubiously. "What's so comforting about something that barely qualifies as food?"

"You're ridiculous," Clark laughed. "You could just say no, if you don't want some. One would think you've never had instant noodles."

Silence stretched as Bruce pointedly crossed his arms, leaning as far back as the stool would let him.

"One would be right to think so." He shrugged.

Clark waited a beat for the punchline, but none came. He waved vaguely between Bruce and the food in question. "Really?"

"This might come as a surprise, but Alfred isn't the type to allow junk food in the house."

"Well yeah," Clark quickly agreed. The image of Alfred even _touching_ an instant ramen packet was bizarre. He shook his head lightly. "But you're an adult. You've travelled all over the world. And you're telling me you've never had instant noodles at any point in your life?"

"Never." Bruce punctuated his point by grabbing the glass of water on the far side of the counter. He raised it in a toast. "My body is a temple."

Clark was still reeling from how different Bruce's lifestyle was, but he couldn't let a line like that go. "As in high-maintenance _and_ crumbling to pieces?"

Bruce leaned in conspiratorially. "More like made for kneeling and worship," he commented innocently, his gaze anything but. He stared at Clark, unblinking, even as he proceeded to take a casual sip of water.

"That works too," Clark said thinly. He could feel heat in his face, and maybe in some other areas. He coughed into his hand and turned to the cupboards. "But you can't distract me."

Clark took two bowls in one hand and utensils in the other.

"Clark," Bruce said in a warning.

"You're having some," Clark announced before Bruce could rope him into anything else. "You cannot tell me that you've never had instant noodles, and expect me to leave you be."

"It's perfectly reasonable to expect that, as a matter of fact."

"Please? Just a bite," Clark tried his best pleading face. "Just a tiiiny bite--so tiny it won't even affect your religiously monitored carbs intake."

"Carbs are the least of my worries," Bruce mumbled. He was probably mentally reciting the main ingredients of most instant noodles, and arranging them by chemical hazard levels.

"Come on, B," Clark tilted his face at a deliberate angle, then looked at Bruce through his lashes. "I want to know what you think." It was a dirty move, and he didn't use it often, but when he did--

Bruce's brows unknitted. Clark already knew his answer before he opened his mouth. The Bat Melter never failed.

"Fine."

Smiling, Clark kissed the corner of Bruce's mouth. Success was sweet.

The frown eased off Bruce's face, but it promptly returned when Clark heaped chow mein into two bowls with equal portions.

====

"So, how does it taste?"

Bruce made a show of primly wiping his mouth with a paper towel. "Like preservatives and slow death."

"Quit being melodramatic," Clark said behind a forkful.

"Melodrama is half of my shtick, Kent."

"What's the other half?"

"Being a professional ass."

"Bruce Wayne, Professional Ass." Clark's hand made two sweeps in the air, tracing the lines of an invisible newspaper headline. He grinned. "I like it. I should use that as your caller ID from now on."

Bruce tilted his chin challengingly and smirked. "Go ahead. Lets see how mild-mannered Clark Kent explains that when I give you a ring."

Clark laughed at the image, and Bruce shook his head, unable to contain a smile. He offhandedly reached for another forkful of noodles, and Clark laughed even harder.

"What are you doing? What are you doing? You said it tasted like _preservatives and slow death_ ," Clark managed to say through his glee. He was pointing an unsteady accusatory finger at Bruce.

Bruce unashamedly shrugged after swallowing. "I did. But who would've known they'd complement each other? Stop looking so smug."

Clark smothered his smile by stuffing his face with more noodles. Across him, Bruce rolled his eyes and took another bite. It was a good morning.

**Author's Note:**

> I literally just googled 'most popular instant noodles in america' while writing this and picked the one that appealed to me most (which was something called Sapporo Ichiban Japanese Style Noodles Chow Mein). I'm not sure if it's actually popular, so if any of you guys know about it, please tell me! I've been wondering about the taste since I first saw pictures of it *q*


End file.
